


Where You Lay Your Head

by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)



Series: The Things You Know [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, a day in the life, bucky has a foul-mouthed mind, i reject Civil War's reality and substitute my own, really super fluffy, steve has a potty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygreen/pseuds/leveragehunters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to <i>No Such Thing as Fighting Dirty</i>, this is a day in the life of what comes next. Bucky continues to get better at being touched by Steve, but better is a journey, not a destination. Contains banter, coffee, and unrepentant fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Lay Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> So this little fluff-monster brings to an end what began with _No Such Thing as Fighting Dirty_ (which ended up taking on a life of its own). I just want to get a little mushy for a sec and say thanks to everyone who took the time to read it and who left kudos and such kind comments. It was the first serious thing I wrote in a long time and I can't even tell you how much that meant to me. Okay /mush.

The best thing about no longer being a brainwashed deadly assassin under the control of a ruthless, world spanning, psychopathic cult, Bucky decided, was the coffee.

He sighed and closed his eyes as he gulped down his first mug. Maybe _sipping_ coffee was good enough for other people, but for his first cup, Bucky sucked it down like it was all that stood between the world and certain destruction. Considering the former brainwashed deadly assassin part, that couldn't be entirely ruled out.  

It had been a good night, after a series of good nights, all nightmare free, and the morning was crisp and clean, giving a clear view down over the city from their balcony. Steve set a second mug on the table in front of him just as Bucky finished his first and Bucky leaned back in his chair, all temporarily right with his world.  The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and he had coffee.  Bucky wrapped his hands around his new mug and Steve looked amused. He leaned over, resting a hand on Bucky's shoulder, looking a question at him and, when Bucky tipped his head back, kissed him. Bucky pressed up into the kiss; when his brain came back on-line he immediately reassessed: coffee was the _second_ best thing.

"Morning, Buck."

Steve was carrying another mug and the paper, which Bucky shook his head at, Steve's insistence on reading an actual _paper_ a continuing source of amusement. "Yes it is," he replied, flashing Steve a quick grin as Steve sat across the table from him, and wasn't at all surprised when Steve kicked him gently under the table as he sat down. 

"You're in a good mood."

"Good sleep, great view," he said, tipping his head in Steve's direction, Steve who was wearing a tight t-shirt and a pair of loose drawstring pants. "Got nothing in the world to complain about."

Steve gave him a quelling look, but Bucky could tell he was secretly pleased by the way he captured Bucky's feet between his under the table even as he opened the paper and began to read. Watching Steve read the paper could be quite an experience, depending on how stupid Steve thought the people in it were being on any given day.  Bucky had been known to pull out his phone and start recording when Steve started swearing under his breath.

Taking a gulp of coffee that drained half the mug, Bucky lifted his feet up to rest in Steve's lap, smiling as Steve automatically wrapped a hand around them. 

Things had been easier since the night Steve's Goddamned Stupid Plan had reached maximum stupidity.  They still had to be careful, Bucky could still react badly if he wasn't expecting to be touched, but things were so much better. Except for the part where Bucky felt like a damned addict now; he couldn't get enough.  And except for the part where it had created an exciting new problem: Sex. Sex was becoming a problem. Not for Steve. Steve, Bucky knew, would wait forever.  No, it was becoming a problem for Bucky.

As an abstract thought, sex with Steve was...yes. He had memories, most from before the war. Steve was smaller, just flashes, nothing cohesive, nothing coherent, just skin against skin, heat and movement.  There were nights he woke from dreams that were half memory and he _wanted._

At some point.

His brain was mostly one hundred percent on board. Physically, he wasn't quite there. Yet.  It was frustrating.

"Goddamned assholes, Bucky, I swear to god." There it was. Bucky hid a grin behind his mug. People in the paper were being stupid.

"What's that, Steve? Didn't quite catch it."

"Can you believe this bullshit?" Steve gestured at the paper, eyes narrowed, but whatever he'd been about to share with Bucky was cut off by the strident alarm coming from Steve's phone.

It was like being doused in ice water.

That alarm would sound even if the phone was on silent, even if the battery was dead, and it wasn't a call for Steve. It was for Captain America; it was the call for the Avengers.

Steve was up and over to it in seconds, Bucky following at his heels. "Eight minutes. Picking up from the roof."

Bucky nodded and kept following Steve into Steve's bedroom.  Steve didn't pause, pulling off his shirt as he came through the door and dropping it on the floor, pants following until he was standing naked in front of the closet where he stored the uniform. Arms folded, back a line of tension, Bucky leaned against the door frame, watching.

Steve quickly skinned into the gear he wore under his uniform then pulled it out, slipped it on, and looked to Bucky.

Bucky pushed off the door frame and walked over to him. This was something he needed to do and Steve understood, stood tall and calm under Bucky's hands as, every movement measured, careful, Bucky strapped him into his uniform. When he was satisfied, he moved back and Steve stepped into the boots. Bucky knelt and buckled them.  As he stood, he slowly ran his hands up Steve's legs, across his hips, over his chest, up his back, checking that everything was in place, there were no weak spots.

Their breathing and the soft burr of his metal fingers brushing against the fabric were the only sounds. Steve held out the harness for the shield, the belt, and he buckled them into place, fingers deft.  The gloves were next, and Bucky slid them on, secured them, tightened his fingers briefly around Steve's, then reached past him to pick up the helmet.

Steve bowed his head, eyes slipping shut, and Bucky smoothed his hair back, placed the helmet on his head.

Still silent, they walked into the living room where the shield hung on the wall. Bucky lifted it off its hook, fingers gliding over the smooth surface, metal fingers waking a muted hum.  He met Steve's eyes over the shield, a strange moment of dissonance, remembering another time and place, before he shook it off.  Steve turned around and Bucky carefully slid it into place on his back.

Steve turned to face him.  "I've got to go."

"I know." Bucky reached up to wrap his right hand around the back of Steve's neck and pull him into a kiss, Steve's hands coming up to hold Bucky's face.  They broke apart and Bucky grabbed the straps that secured the shield with both hands.  "Don't be stupid. Watch your back. Come home safe."  He punctuated each sentence with a small shake, then stepped back. "Go."

With one last long look at Bucky, Steve went, heading out the door and up the stairs that led to the roof. Bucky could hear the sound of the helicopter that was landing to take him away.  He stood in the living room, listening until he couldn't hear it anymore. 

Bucky had to wrestle down a near overwhelming urge to follow. There were enough weapons in this apartment, he could probably take out a small country; there'd be more than enough to keep Steve safe.  But they'd talked about it. Outside of an absolute emergency, no one was totally comfortable with the idea of him at their backs, not even Bucky. He couldn't be sure he wouldn’t white out, come back as someone else.

And part of him, part of him wasn't sure he wanted to be that person any more, felt old and tired, exhausted from decades of being steeped in violence. Knew there had to be a better way to make amends than more killing.

None of it made it any easier to let Steve go.

***

Bucky went for a run. He ran in boots, heavy and thick soled, and he felt people staring as he stormed past. He ignored them, ignored everything, just listened to his heartbeat and his breathing and ran until it started to pound, until it started to strain, and only then did he turn for home.

A shower, more coffee, and he arranged himself on the living room floor, books spread around him, computer by his side.  Today was a good day and good days weren't to be wasted; on bad days knowledge simply fell through the holes in his mind.  That he could take classes from schools all over the world had been a revelation.  Science, technology, astronomy, so many different kinds of math. _Anyone_ could take them. It was fucking amazing.  Bucky settled in, losing himself, in these moments drifting closer to the man he'd once been.

It was mid-day when his phone buzzed with a message from Steve.

_Everyone fine. Waiting for something to happen._

Bucky quickly replied, _Never a bad guy around when you need one, huh?_

_Well, they're not known for being punctual. One of the ways you can tell they're the bad guys._

Bucky snorted and sent back, _Smartass._

 _Cute, too_. _What are you doing?_

_Not much. Reading._

Steve didn't reply right away. Five minutes later, a text came through: _Gotta go, bad guy here._

Bucky sent back, _Kick his ass,_ and then put his phone down.  Deliberately picked up the book he'd been reading and deliberately did not worry about Steve.

It was almost dark, the day having passed without him noticing, when his phone buzzed once more.

 _Heading home. All fine, not hurt. ETA 2200._ _Love you_.

The rush of relief made Bucky grin and he sent back a quick acknowledgement. He was stiff and sore from being still for so long, so he pulled himself to his feet and ran through a quick series of stretches. It didn't take long to pack up his things and when he finished he kept wandering aimlessly around the apartment, stopping to lean in the doorway of Steve's bedroom.  

They had separate bedrooms. Bucky knew Steve would be happy—more than happy, he'd be over the damned moon—to have Bucky in here. Steve had never asked, never even hinted, but Bucky knew. It hadn't been a possibility when they'd moved in, Bucky in no kind of shape to think of sharing a room with him, much less a bed. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of the damage he could have— _would have_ —done.  

He walked in to pick up the clothes Steve had discarded this morning, tossed them in the laundry basket, then sat on the edge of Steve's bed. He leaned back to lie down and stare at the ceiling, made a thoughtful humming sound in the back of his throat, then rolled to his feet and walked out into the living room to order Chinese.

***

At 22:05 Steve came through the front door.  Bucky looked up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, reading Steve's paper.  Steve was in civvies, hair damp, shield on a strap over his shoulder, bag at his feet and his eyes lit up with amusement when he saw what Bucky was reading.   Bucky rolled his eyes and hastily folded it up, dropping it into the recycling as he walked over to Steve. 

"Debriefed already?" Bucky asked, sliding the shield off Steve's shoulder to lean it against the wall.

"We stopped at the tower first. No one was seriously hurt, but we were kind of green."

"Green."

"There were these, I don't know, Clint was calling them weird-worms, they exploded green. It stained."

"Kind of wish I'd seen that."

Steve just shook his head and reached out for Bucky, pulling him close. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve and pressed his nose into his shoulder, breathing him in. "You're not hurt."

"I'm not hurt."

"Just green."

Steve's laugh rumbled through his chest. "Just green."

"Good." Bucky leaned up to kiss him, taking his time, fingers of his metal hand curling around Steve's chin to hold him in place. When he pulled back, Steve leaned his forehead against Bucky's.

They both looked down when Steve's stomach growled. "And apparently starving."

Steve reheated the leftover Chinese and they sat at the table, Bucky watching him eat. It was easy to see Steve was tired, it showed in the lines of his body, in the way he slumped in his chair, his eyes a little dimmer than usual. 

As Steve finished the last of the noodles—and Bucky waited until he swallowed because he had no desire to wear half-chewed Chinese food if Steve overreacted—he took a deep breath.  "Decided I'm going to sleep with you tonight."

Steve lowered his chopsticks and stared at Bucky, eyes comically wide.

"Sex is still not on the table," he added and, unable to resist and frankly not trying very hard, continued, the hint of a smirk lurking in his voice, "or the chair, or the counter, or the couch."

Steve snorted a laugh and Bucky's mouth curled into a smile as Steve trapped Bucky's feet between both of his.  "And that's still fine, Bucky. Whatever you want is what I want to give, you know that."

"I know." Bucky did know that. Sometimes Bucky was so fucking grateful for it he could barely breathe. "So, you, me, your bed?"

"Sounds good to me." Bucky could tell by the smile spreading across Steve's face it was more than good; his eyes were practically glowing. When Steve was that happy, warmth seemed to pour out of him like molten sunshine and Bucky kind of wanted to roll around in it.  "Unless you snore." Of course being happy didn't stop him from being a little shit.

***

Steve was utterly unselfconscious, stripping out of his clothes and swapping them for a pair of drawstring pyjama pants. Bucky watched him before shucking off his own clothes down to his boxers.  There was a shimmer of nerves under his skin, a tiny part of him still not trusting his body completely. Steve could read it on his face, because he closed the distance between them and pressed his palm against Bucky's sternum, fingers curling up over his collarbone. "Hey. I trust you."

"Yeah, but you're pretty stupid," he pointed out, corner of his mouth pulling up in a smile. Steve's fingers were points of heat, radiating warmth that slid over his skin, chasing away the nerves.

"Jerk." Steve gently kissed him, then slowly ran one hand down his spine, pressing hard. Bucky let out a long sigh and Steve backed towards the bed, pulling Bucky with him.  When Steve hit the edge of the bed he sat down and pressed a kiss to Bucky's stomach, then leaned back to look up at him.  "Tell me how you want to do this?"

Bucky looked down at him, thinking, fingers curling through Steve's hair. "You okay on your back?"

Steve gave him a questioning look, but flipped the covers over and lay down on his back in the middle of the bed, stretching to settle himself. Arms folded behind his head, he looked up at him expectantly. "Okay?" Bucky nodded, then slid across the bed and straddled Steve's thighs. Steve's eyes widened slightly. "Bucky?"

"Hey, what happened to trusting me?" he asked lightly, gently nudging one knee between Steve's. He planted his hands on either side of Steve's ribs, then draped himself over Steve like a blanket and let himself go limp, flattening him to the bed. 

Steve started chuckling and he could feel it vibrating through his own chest as Steve reached out to snag the covers, pulling them back over the two of them.  He wrapped both arms around Bucky. "Comfortable?" he asked fondly.

Bucky nodded, pressing his ear to Steve's chest.  Steve's heartbeat was loud in his ear, Steve's hand was drawing soothing circles on his back, and Bucky closed his eyes and felt every muscle relax. It was like being drugged. Bucky could get used to this, wanted to get used to this.  "How would you feel about me moving in here, permanent like?"

"I'd feel pretty damn good about that." He could hear the smile in Steve's voice.

"Good, cause I was going to whatever you said."  Bucky wriggled around a little, getting more comfortable, and Steve laughed, holding him tighter.

"Of course you were."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :).


End file.
